The Ministry
by Flick262
Summary: Britain and the Commonwealth control human space. Humanity faces a golden age of exploration and diplomacy with the Galaxy, but humanity learns of the Reapers and as they struggle to prepare, dark forces with their own agenda being to plan and prepare their own rise.
1. Intro

**Hello all**

 **I'm adding this prequel to my Ministry of Space tale as I've just realized I didn't explain enough as to what the Ministry of Space actually is.**

 **Here's a quick time line so as to set the scene for the story.**

1945: British special force capture German Rocket research teams from Peenemunde in Germany, taking with them all notes and transportable equipment. American advance scouts who enter the base are killed when Lancaster bombers flatten what remains of the German research centre.

Air Marshall John Dashwood holds a secret meeting with Winston Churchill, in which he reveals that he is responsible for the capture of the German scientists and intends to use their expertise to put Britain and the Empire ahead in the coming space race. He also reveals he has obtained a "Black Budget" and Churchill approves the formation of the Ministry of Space.

Churchill also secretly orders the formation of a universal military intelligence and police force known as the M system with M7 being the highest obtainable level. Able to access all information and being held above the law in order that they may carry out their duty, to ensure the safety of the British Empire and the collection of vital information whatever the cost. Also known as Red Book carriers due to the colour of the booklet containing their security passes.

1946: First rocket containing cameras is launched into space on an upgraded V-2 rocket chassis. British industrialists are ordered to cooperate and supply all the Ministry's needs. First Radio telescope is built at Jodrell Bank in Cheshire, becoming the control centre for British space operations.

1948: First Satellite is launched successfully, broadcasting "God save the King" in Morse code. Plans are made for the launch of the first Britannia class "Space Plane".

1950: Britannia is launch with John Dashwood at the controls, while initially successful in reaching space, control is lost on descent causing the plane to crash into a farm house. John Dashwood loses both his legs as a result. When released from hospital, John Dashwood is knighted for services to the Empire in 1952

1953: on the day of Queen Elizabeth's coronation the first multi-stage orbital rocket is launched, carrying with it the first foundation for a British controlled space station.

1956: Churchill Station, the first British space station, begins to generate its own power. National service conscription is continued and opened to include the royal space force.

Launched from Churchill Station, The Royal Spaceship Victoria completes the first successful moon landing.

1960: With the first lunar colony established, Corporal Langton discovers water on the moon.

1969: Captain Langton, leads the first colonisation fleet of 700 personnel to mars.

1976: Mars colony sets up green houses allowing for the rapid growth of crops. Exports to earth start at the end of the year making food one of the cheapest products in Britain.

1980: Under Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher's orders, the Ministry of Space weaponizes over a dozen vessels in order to keep the Cold War from boiling over. Further research into already common laser and rail-launching technology is commenced.

1982: Thatcher orders the orbital bombardment of Argentine military bases and installations on the Falkland Islands and on the Argentine Mainland in response to the Argentine invasion of the Falkland Islands, while this decision is greeted with shock by the world, Thatcher refuses to back down and threatens further bombardment until Argentine forces withdraw from the islands.

1985: Sir John Dashwood resigns as head of the Ministry of Space and becomes head lecturer in Space technology at Lowlands University.

1990: Due to increasing tension between America, Russia and Britain, Thatcher orders MoS hackers to launch all Nuclear Weapons from all countries except Britain. Once the missiles are in space, the British Space Station chain headed by Churchill Station is able to destroy all nuclear missiles, ensuring British dominance. While increasing her popularity with the military and the MoS and effectively ending the cold war, this act causes her cabinet to force her resignation.

1995: The first military fleet, the 1st Home System Fleet of the MoS is established consisting of 2 Dreadnoughts, 4 Cruisers and 8 Frigates.

2001: The Prothean Mars Archive is located and within months is mostly decoded. Knowledge of the Reapers is located but kept highly confidential, available only to Ministry of Defence, Intelligence and Space Supreme command and Red Book carriers.

America launches their first circum-lunar space flight named Apollo, despite British warnings. Due to malfunction the rocket explodes on launch. Rumours of British sabotage bring Anglo-American Relations to a new low.

2010: The Mass Relay at Pluto is discovered and activated, first probes sent through reveal more relays and liveable planets.

2012: First Space Carrier "Sir John Dashwood" is launched, at over 1.2 kilometres long and 600m wide at widest point it is the single largest craft built in space, has a compliment of 1,600 personnel and is armed with two squadrons of Sidley-Hawker "Hussar" class space fighters and one squadron of Avro-Supermarine "Dragoon" class light orbital and deep space bombers. "Sir John Dashwood" becomes the flagship of the 1st or Home System Fleet.

2015: Formation of the first Royal Space Marine regiments, 1st and 2nd regiments comprised mainly of British, 3rd is from Canada, the 4th is New Zealand and the 5th and 6th are from Australia. A 7th regiment is drafted in secret and comprises of special-forces from all commonwealth countries. The 7th Royal Space Marine's mission is to search for and protect any further Prothean relics or archives similar to those found on Mars. Men are equipped with specialist heavy armour capable of surviving space and weapons damage as well as Vickers-Maxim Pilum Assault rifles utilizing Mass Effect tech.

2018: President Ransky of America, building on America's suspicion and increasing dislike of Britain's growth since the Apollo incident, authorizes CIA and Delta force operations against Britsh Mass Effect research labs and Military research bases in Canada, Australia and the Carribian. Britain retaliates by presicion orbital bombardment of American Military complexes and placing America under economic blockade.

2020: Albion the first colony outside the Sol system is founded.

2030: Due to crippling national debt and the British blockade America joins the Commonwealth as The United Commonwealth of America, Texas and the California Republic vote to remain independent. The role of President is replaced with a Prime-Minister who reports to a Governor-General.

First Thatcher Class heavy Dreadnoughts constructed, these ships are the largest in the MoS fleet, over 1.75 kilometres long and with a main armament of 6 ship-length forward-facing Mass Effect enhanced rail guns allowing one salvo from this ship to slit open a planets crust. Vessel also contains 6 fighter and four bomber squadrons.

2049: First of the Commonwealth Frigates launched. Named after cities throughout the Commonwealth, are known to be crewed by particular nations rather than mixed crews of original Royal Space Force ships. Carries the latest in weaponry, and has an average crew of 180 ratings and officers and a further 60 marines, along with 18 flight crew for the four Puffin Class shuttles and three Avro-Supermarine Collie Class multi-purpose space fighters

2050: The British Space Empire consists of well over 40 Solar systems with 16 fleets to patrol. 10 of the fleets are heavy fleets consisting of 1 Thatcher Class Dreadnought, 2 Dashwood Class Carriers, 12 Boadicea Class Cruisers as well as on average 20-30 Frigates and Corvets.

Finding and activating of Mass Relays becomes a priority as Colonisation becomes vital. Britsh High Command is also seeking further Prothean Beacons to assist in the coming defence against the Reapers.

Construction of the "Crucible" is begun.

 **Hope this helps the story make more sense. Hope you all enjoy and don't forget to send feedback on what you want to see happen in the story.**

 **P.S. Would any of you know anyone interested in doing fan art based on this story?**


	2. Chapter 1

I don't own anything in the mass effect universe or the ministry of space.

I hope you enjoy. Please leave reviews with any comments and ideas.

Glossary

H.M.S.S: Her/His Majesty's Space Ship

B.G.B.C: British Galactic Broadcast Coporation. Known as Beeb or Beegy

Haka: Maori dance performed as greeting or challenge. Unique to New Zealand. (look up All Blacks)

Kiwis: Common term for New Zealanders

Poms: Common term for British

October 2001

Whitehall London headquarters of the Ministry of Space and the Royal Space Force.

"Are you sure it's genuine?" Commodore Hawke glowered at the screen. "Yes sir" stated the signals officer, "Colonel Langton has confirmed that the vault is much bigger than anticipated and with a little calibration our computers are able to understand it." "I see." Growled Hawke, he was struggling with the implications. A vault seemingly full of data and technology far advanced than anything the Ministry of space had seen, and it was on Mars.

January 2010

"Sir the grease monkeys confirm that it's safe, you can fire her up and see what happens."

Lieutenant Bradly grinned slightly, "Alright then, let's see what this baby can do!" he thumbed the button. In the silence that followed he looked around the huge control room. At the Union Jack and the Flag of the Royal space force hanging from the wall. At the expectant and anxious faces of the technicians. Slowly the room began to hum, a throbbing that grew louder with each passing second eventually flooding the room. Men and women clutched their ears as the sound drove the breath from their bodies before suddenly stopping. Bradly picked himself up from the floor and was about to turn to check on the rest of the room when something in the window caught his eye. He stepped to the thick glass and stared open mouthed at the pulsing blue orb resting between the two prongs of the space station. He turned slowly and stared at the chief signals officer, "send a message tight beam to Admiral Hawke in London," he murmured. Mass Relay station 1 is fully functional."

June 2026

"The space freighter R.S.S. Ontario has docked in Manchester space port containing the first delivery of produce and materials from Albion, mankind's first colony outside our solar system." boomed the vid screens in Piccadilly Circus. "In other news rising violence in America has forced President Harold Ransky to be evacuated from Washington, as mobs, protesting against repression of Mass Effect technology and the commencement of martial law stormed the Whitehouse and the Capitol earlier today" sub lieutenant Wallace Flats gave up listening to the news, America had gone to hell since the Brits had stopped spoon feeding them mass effect technology, but then again America had only themselves to blame when that idiot Ransky had thought it a good idea to try and launch covert ops against British bases and had attempted to organize a coup in Canada of all places. He shook his head as he boarded a hover bus and found a seat on the top deck. His new omni tool glowing gently.

August 2050

"What the devil do they mean "Aliens"?" snapped Vice Admiral Flats as the room exploded into activity. "It's unclear" replied General Smythe in his calm measured tones, "The reports are garbled and unclear, from what Intel has gathered they had almost completed their mission on the new relay when unidentified ships attacked them. All we know for sure is that we are unable to contact either the R.S.S. Enterprise or the H.M.S.S. Swallow." "And the R.S.S. Battersea is careening towards us gabbling about being attacked by giant armed raptor monsters!" hissed Flats. "Sir!" called a radar operator, "Battersea just came through the relay sir and on radar, somethings following her sir!" the room seemed to hold its breath despite the sirens and red emergency lights as the two officers bent over the screen. In the moment's silence that followed the room from the lowest private to the most senior captains knew that history was being made.

Two weeks later:

Aboard the "Thatcher" class Dreadnought H.M.S.S. Orion the representatives of humanity sat around the highly polished table in the officer's wardroom waiting for the representatives of the aliens. Translating technology had been upgraded by both sides so at least a ground work for future negotiation could be worked out. Admiral Flats and General Smythe sat at the head of the table flanked by two guards of the Royal Space Regiment. Cameras were rolling from the BGBC and a handful of the senior army and Royal Space Force officers were gathered behind the two commanders. Both officers stood abruptly as the first of the aliens arrived. Admiral Flats arched an eyebrow while one of the camera crew gave a low wolf whistle "Wow, blue babes in space, looks like those cheesy yank films were right." Came a voice from the back of the room. General Smythe turned and gave the room a death stare which silenced whoever had spoken. The blue female turned to the two men. "Good morning," she smiled. Both men bowed slightly. "Good morning ma'am," said Flats, "May I ask what we may call you?" of course, she smiled, I am ambassador Elina of the Citadel Council. "Of course of course" Admiral Flats smiled awkwardly, "But if you don't mind us asking, what do you call yourselves? You obviously aren't a Turian." Ambassador Elina laughed, "That I am not," she grinned, "I'm an Asari, we are considered to be the diplomats of the galaxy while the Turians are the military." "I see," murmured Flats. "Ah," gasped Elina, "And here are the Turian and Salarian representatives, Ambassadors Sartatian and Levos respectively." The air in the room got noticeably chillier as the Turian ambassador entered the room, the soldiers all immediately stiffening if only slightly.

As the three aliens sat around the table opposite the Human delegation, both sides observed each other with interest. For a few minutes the only sound was the muffled whirr of the BGBC camera. Finally General Smythe broke the silence. "Due to the singularly unique nature of this meeting," he said, shifting in his seat, "we have established a holographic link with the foreign office in Whitehall and the foreign secretary wishes to participate in this meeting." As he spoke there as a flickering beside him and finally the form of a rather portly gentleman appeared. He fit the description of a friendly Dickensian uncle with his white hair and moustache, rounded figure and slightly reddish hue. His appearance however, was deceiving. This was the current foreign secretary Sir Harold Watkins, the man who had through his knowledge of politics and dirty tactics had ensured British supremacy in Earth politics, his crowning achievement had been his convincing of the desperate and hopeless American government to announce King William V as the head of state for the now United Commonwealth of America.

Watkins eyed the aliens as they eyed him. Finally he spoke, "It is sad indeed that we have met in such circumstances ambassadors," his Churchillian voice boomed, "However, the fact that we are meeting here today is a sure sign that all is not lost. While your despatches from the "Galactic Council" have been received, I wish to hear from you yourselves why you attacked and destroyed a royal research vessel and a light frigate of the Royal Space Force, before going on to attack a human colony and a flotilla of civilian and light military vessels"

Ambassador Elina nodded and leant forward on the table, "That is fair enough," she purred, "The opening of new mass relays is illegal under galactic law due to a series of violent conflicts with an insectoid species called the Rachni a few hundred years ago. When the Third Fleet of the Turian Hierarchy observed your vessels attempting to open Relay 314, they responded as they were meant to," At this she glared at the Turian Ambassador, "However, they did go too far when they pursued your vessels through the relay and attacked your colony." The Turian ambassador huffed and also leant forward, "It must be noted that once we discovered that we had encountered a new species we immediately withdrew and requested advice from the council." He snapped his brow plates furrowed and his eyes glittering angrily, "We also lost several ships when these humans attacked us after we had withdrawn!" Admiral Flats glared at him, "We attacked the aggressor, your ships were still firing when we arrived!" "ENOUGH!" Snapped Elina and Watkins together, they stared at each other in surprise for a moment before Watkins gestured for the Asari to continue. "What I suggest," stated Elina firmly, Is that a small human vessel with a diplomatic, military and scientific team accompanies us to the citadel, the centre of Galactic politics and be allowed to set up an embassy as well as trade knowledge and experience. None of us want war and as such the sooner we understand each other the sooner we can all cooperate." Watkins nodded in agreement. "An excellent idea," he declared, "Admiral Flats you will assemble a team of representatives with a small escort and meet at Articus station with a political delegation I shall assemble here and send out to meet you. We will also send a team of medical specialists and engineers. See to it that a suitable ship is ready."

Commander Fredrick Munro of the Commonwealth class destroyer H.M.S.S. Wellington was unimpressed. Not only was his ship full to bursting with boffins, doctors, diplomats and other egg-heads, he also had a hold full of alien prisoners of war who were being repatriated. "What the bloody hell are those poms at the ministry thinking?" he snapped at the hologram. "Watch your tone commander," was the blunt reply, Admiral Flats didn't like politics either but he knew Munro needed to be kept in line. "All you have to do is play nice and don't go shooting your mouth off."

"You should be proud!" he went on as Munro opened his mouth to say something, "The first ship to meet the rest of the galaxy is almost fully crew by kiwis! You'll go down in history." Munro sighed. "Yeah yeah, I get it sir. We'll do you proud sir."

"I know you will," Admiral Flats chuckled, "Oh and Commander! May I strongly suggest you don't do a haka when you arrive?"


	3. Chapter 2

Once again, I don't own any of the characters. Hope you enjoy. Remember please tell me anything you'd like to see happen in this story, there's no real set plan as yet, I'm interested to see where this story goes. Please enjoy

Chapter 2

The H.M.S.S. Wellington was in the midst of a panic, Coms officers were scrabbling across the bridge as officers and men bawled orders and threatened dire consequences. The Asari and Turian Ambassadors who had decided to remain on board for the voyage to the citadel hurried into the bridge, "What's happening commander?" asked the concerned Asari, her voice firm but her tight posture betraying her concern. "If there's an emergency, why are there no sirens or alarms?" growl The Turian, "My men are still in the hold! You'd better not be thinking of abandoning them!" Commander Munro sighed, "This isn't an emergency that concerns you _ambassadors_." He glowered, emphasising their title meaningfully. "There is no danger to any alien aboard this vessel. Though the same could not be said for our coms officers if they don't repair our links with Ministry signals." Declared the clearly agitated Munro, glaring at the offending officers in question.

"Why?' asked the now curious Asari, "We've made it clear you're under our protection. I hope you are not considering us dishonest."

Munro waved his hand, "No your exllency," he stated, obviously struggling to keep in control. "But we are waiting for an important vid from earth and if we can't get it, the crew will be very pissed off, with a very capital "P"". "What in the galaxy are you expecting?" inquired a now very curious Elina.

"Munro paused and turned to the Turian ambassador. "Mr. Ambassador," he said gravely, "I know Turians and Humans have got off to a rough start but may I ask you a question?" Sartatian huffed but nodded, his curiosity also peaked by the humans' odd behaviour. "Your race is very militaristic, much like ours." Stated Munro, "What do Turians usually do to unwind?" both Elina and Sartatian blinked, this was not a question they'd been expecting. Sartatian coughed and looked at the strange human commander. "We Turians have different leisure activities, sparring, watching competitive sports…" "That's all I need!" interrupted Munro bluntly, "You guys watch sports. How would a Turian crew react if the biggest game of the decade was been broadcast live and they missed it while they were off duty?" Sartatian was flummoxed, "They'd be disappointed human, nothing more!" he stated firmly linking his talons behind his back. "What is it you're trying to watch?" as Elina, "I'm interested to see what has your crew in such a state." Munro stared at her then shrugged, "The Rugby galactic cup." He sighed. "The what cup?" asked a puzzled Turian and Asari.

At that precise moment there was a shower of sparks and a loud bang on the other side of the bridge. "I got the bugger sir!" came an elated voice from where the sparks had come. The bridge crew gave a small cheer, almost drowned by the sound of elation roaring through the whole vessel. Elina and Sartatian stared at each other in bemusement as the deck shook slightly beneath their feet. Munro turned to face them again as vid screens began popping up on everyone's omni tools. "It's a vital competitive game," he stated simply, "Especially for those of us from New Zealand. It's the cup final, All Blacks vs Albion 5." The two aliens merely shook their heads. "My men would never be interested a human game," muttered Sartatian, turning on his heel and heading for the lift down to the cargo hold. Munro chuckled and turned to Elina, "And how about you ambassador, would you be interested?" Elina nodded graciously and stepped forward to view the vid screen, curious about what was the cause of all the excitement. She stopped and raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh at what she saw. Sartatian had just stepped out of the lift to come face to face with a hold full of Turian Prisoners, caught in the act of attempting to replicate a haka being taught to them by their guards while the opening moments of the match played out on the wall behind them.

In the days that followed the rugby incident, the once surly Turian prisoners of war had started to get on with their human hosts. The humans for their part were steadily beginning to relax around their once former enemies, some even going so far as to start having communal meals and giving interested Turians a tours of the open parts of the ship. Due to the short nature of the Contact War (as it was now being called)

There had been few casualties on either side, resulting in friendships forming much quicker than would otherwise have been the case. Sartatian however, was still attempting to be outraged at the Turians' attempt to replicate a pathetic human custom. What he didn't know, was that Munro and Elina both knew he'd watched the game in his cabin and had even clapped at the All Black's win.

One day while walking to the Officers mess for dinner, Elina encountered another strange aspect of these decidedly unique humans. She was just passing an open bulkhead when she heard raised voices, "Oh shove it Doc! You're just quack jafa Lawson" exclaimed an exasperated crewman as he stormed from the room almost colliding with the surprised Asari. The Man paled and apologised to a startled Elina before dashing down the passage and out of sight. Elina frowned, thinking her translator might have glitched as she continued to the wardroom. Later, after the excellent dinner had been cleared away (Elina had quite enjoyed the English beef followed be that strange dessert, what had Munro called it again? Pavlova?) She turned to the Human commander, "I heard a strange human word today commander, and I was wondering if you could tell me what it means." Munro sat next to her and gestured for her to continue. "A crewman called one of your medical staff a quack and a jafa, what do those words mean?" Munro stiffened as she spoke, and Sartatian, who'd been pretending to ignore the pair, leant forward slightly. Munro smiled grimly and toyed with his wine glass for a few minutes before speaking. "A quack is a doctor who is not popular with the men, and a jafa stands for Just Another Freaking Australian" he murmured.

Elina looked puzzled, Sartatian frowned, "But I thought your two colonies..." Sartatian paused, "My apologies… countries, were side by side and united through your commonwealth." "That we are," nodded Munro, "But that doesn't mean we like each other. Especially since Australia tried to buy New Zealand in 2028."

A few days later the two Ambassador were called to the bridge. Munro informed them that they'd soon be approaching the citadel. Elina noticed a human reporter from the B.G.B.C. standing behind them, camera pointed out the bridge window to capture the moment. She smiled as she saw Munro fiddling with his cufflinks, a habit she'd noticed he assumed when nervous. While these Humans were certainly strange, and had the same life spans as Turians, she saw great potential in them. Munro in particular fascinated her. While he was obviously a very senior officer he also had an easy attitude which endeared him to his men. He could command like a Turian but could also discuss art and human literature like an artist. Elina nodded to herself. Yes, these humans may find a place within the citadel.

As the Wellington speed through the clouds of gas surrounding the space station Munro felt decidedly nervous. This was the moment that most humans had been dreaming of for almost a century, and here he was, about to meet a highly advanced galaxy of unknowns.

Finally6 the clouds parted and the activity within the bridge paused as every human stared at the huge majestic structure before them. Elina directed the destroyer to land at a high security docking bay near the central spire at the centre of the space station, a place she called The Presidium. By the time the ship had actually docked, a huge crowd had already gathered, held back a barricade and a mass of blue armoured Turians. Munro also noticed a large number of cameras, or what seemed to be cameras, pointed at the ship. Munro made his way to the main docking ramp. At his suggestion and Sartatian's insistence, the Turian troops had been given back their weapons (Unloaded) as well as their regimental banners and were drawn up in parade formation, ready to be the first ones out. Sartatian turned to Munro as he surveyed his troops. "I appreciate you giving them back their weapons and letting them leave with pride commander," he murmured softly. Munro nodded and smiled as the hatch opened, the Turians marching out in perfect lines.

Once the Turians were gone, The Wellington's Marines drew up in ceremonial khaki armour, their felt lemon squeezer hats all straightened perfectly. As they marched down the ramp, Munro could hear the gasps of the crowd outside. He smiled at Elina and Sartatian, who to his surprise smiled back, and stood in front of the ship's crew. He nodded to his men, and marched down the ramp to face the galaxy


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three

 **Hello all, sorry about lateness, struggling with a full schedule and trying to work out which course this story should take. Am thinking of having some extra chapters dedicated to the description of various weapons, armours and vessels so you all can get a good clear picture. Trying to find an illustrator as well but so far no luck. Hope you all enjoy, see if you can spot all the references to all things British and Commonwealth who ever spots the most gets to design a character for this story. (No this is not me being lazy I assure you)**

It had been several months since the H.M.S.S. Wellington had arrived on the Citadel. Lance-Corporal Fred Ward of the 2nd Marine Division of the N.Z.G.E.F. (New Zealand Galactic expeditionary Force) was slowly beginning to feel comfortable.

The past few months had been busy, a Human embassy had been built on the Presidium, translators had been updated to understand all Council languages and all possible information on Humanity had been placed on the extra-net (No easy feat, it had taken months to upload all that material).

On top of all that, Human personnel had been under strong restrictions both by C-Sec and their own Military Police. No human was allowed to leave the docking bay without an escort and whenever groups were allowed to go out it was always with a heavy C-Sec escort and the bars or other areas they went to were always evacuated of civilians by the time they got there. Worse of all, fraternization, especially with the sexy blue humanoid females (Saris? Barlies? Asallies? Something like that anyway) was absolutely and totally banned. Several navel ratings and even a pilot officer who'd been caught trying to sneak out had been placed in the brig for a week with loss of pay. It didn't help that if C-Sec didn't catch then, the damn red-caps would, and it was Fred's job as Lance-Corporal to ensure that the men of his rifle squad didn't wind up in the cooler.

Fred's squad was a decent bunch of blokes, yeah they were a bit rough round the edges but they could be counted on and that's all that mattered. There was "Tubby" Ted, who ironically was thin as a rake, with a mop of blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, while he seemed easy going, he was also the teams Machine gunner and heavy weapons expert with a decided case of pyromania. Next was Theo Ngahua, otherwise known as Tiki, after the Maori fertility icon he wore round his neck. He was by far the biggest of the group, but his size was all due to muscle. While he wasn't the silent-brooding type, he did have his quiet moments, but he got on well and was a barrel of laughs when it came to having a good night out with the lads. The other two in the squad were Donovan and Martha, both were tall, slim and had dark brown hair but there the similarities ended, Martha was an experienced combat veteran and didn't suffer fools gladly, her hazel eyes also had a habit of glittering when she was close to putting her boot up someone's backside. She was also an anti-tank expert and had earned her gold tank badge after her 100th tank kill. Donovan on the other hand was the newbie. Called "Young fulla" by the rest of the squad, he was a bit of a joker but thankfully new when to shut up. He had yet to see combat though and Fred quietly prayed that he wouldn't see any while in the middle of Alien space.

At present his squad along with a handful of other marines were stuck in a rugby scrum against a bunch of navel ratings from the ship, the game was currently standing at 5-3 in favour of the Wellington's crew and the marines were determined to even the odds. Fred turned away from his squad as his omni-tool beeped sharply. He sighed as he realised it was a summons for him to come to the briefing room on board the Wellington. He started back across the docking bay to the ship as a cheer rose from the spectators of the impromptu rugby match.

As he arrived in the briefing room Fred was surprised to see Commander Munro was conducting the briefing. Standing next to the commander was the first Human ambassador to the Citadel Patricia Fulcrum, a life-long politician who was already proving herself more than a match for the cut-throat world of Galactic politics. On the Commander's other side was a red-book, she was a young woman with pitch black hair and warm green eyes, her black M7 armour hide her body shape but she still caught the attention of nearly everyone in the room.

"Sit down Corporal," ordered Munro. Fred's backside had barely touched the chair before the room lights were darkened and a hologram emerged from the desk at the front of the room, showing the crest of the Ministry of Information. "What you're about to see is considered top secret." Stated Munro, "Until now the only people who knew this were red-books and the Grand-Admirals. Not even the Prime Minister knows this information yet." Fred stared, if the government didn't know this, then why the hell was the Commander showing it to a Marine Non-com?

"The reason you are being told this," continued Munro, "Is because each you have been chosen by Operative Smith (Fred rolled his eyes at that one, all red-books were called Operative Smith) to escort her as she will be visiting the home planets of all Council races in order to convince them of the nature of the threat shown in this hologram.

Fred turned to look at the Operative, the only response he got was a slight quirk of the mouth.

"Now then". Said Munro, "As I am not cleared to see what's in this hologram, I leave you two to get acquainted. This room will be under time-lock for six hours."

Once Munro had left, Operative Smith (Fred decided to call her Betty named after a char lady back at training camp on Earth) turned towards him and smiled thinly, flicking the switch on the holo-projector and setting it to play. When the hologram finished and the lights came back on to their normal brightness, Fred continued to sit in his chair, utterly side-swiped by what he'd just learnt. "Reapers?" he asked still dazed. "Yes" replied Betty bluntly. "Our mission is to show our findings to the various militaries while the Wellington's diplomatic team talks to the Politians. Needless to say we have to do this quietly so as not to cause a panic." "I understand" replied Fred, "But why me and my squad? We're just plain ground-pounders not a red-book."

"Betty" looked at him coolly, her face revealing very little. "You and your squad were chosen because you are one of the single tightest teams in the Royal Space Marines," this time her smile was undoubtedly genuine. "You have a perfect service record and know how to keep secrets." She strolled behind the desk and came out with a datapad which she held out to him. "You and your squad are hereby transferred to the 7th R.S.M. regiment."

 _Human Embassy Citadel_

Permanent Diplomatic Secretary Henry Appleby sighed as his omni-tool pinged yet again. Ever since his arrival on the Citadel he'd been playing office boy between the Human Embassy and Embassies of the various council races. While he prided himself on knowing all the ins and outs of dirty politics (The Turians and Asari in particular had already found him very adept and not to be trifled with), he was growing increasingly fed up with dealing with central bearcats, he wished to see the species on different levels, and hopefully find some useful information on the side.

He'd barely lifted his arm to read the message on his omni-tool when his door opened and his assistant Bernice Woolidge hurried in. Henry sighed quietly. While she was competent and learning the art of politics stunningly quickly, Woolidge (he never called subordinates by their first name) was always inclined to open her mouth at the wrong time. She was fastidious in picking up bad habits in others and only yesterday had shocked a Turian diplomat by explaining that his attempted at a human expression (He'd referred to a herd of Vultures) had been incorrect before mimicking a vulture complete with flapping wings (arms) in a diplomatic meeting! That had certainly caused a stir and Appleby had had to do a lot of talking to prevent Woolidge being sent to the nearest loony-bin.

Henry read the message on his omni-tool, his eyes growing wider with each word. Woolidge looked at him curiously, her face framed by her medium cut chestnut hair. "It would appear," croaked Henry, "That you have been promoted "Bernice" and you and I will be going on a little trip to meet our galactic friends on their home worlds!"

 _Edge of the Terminus Systems_

Sergeant Green of the 7th Royal Space Marines didn't like this planet. It was bad enough that due to the electronic storms they couldn't contact their frigate, but the darkness to get to him. He and the four squads under his command were making their way through a cave system which scans had shown led to a seemingly prothean tunnel system. While they hadn't encountered anything Prothean yet, the tunnel was definitely artificial, the signs of tools on the walls a big give-away. Just as he was considering heading back and waiting for contact from H.Q. one of the soldiers' flashlights caught a glint of metal. The marines began to fan out and soon found themselves in a large round almost cathedral-like cave, on the far side of this cave was the metal that'd been glimpsed earlier.

This metal was a door, a round door roughly ten meters across, and painted in the middle was a very strange symbol. It was a black angular ellipse standing on its end, its lower half traced by a thick orange line.

As he stepped forward to examine this find, Green became aware that there seemed to be less of his men behind him, He began to turn and as he did he heard the familiar sound of Vickers Assault Rifles opening fire, his men crumpling and falling beneath the onslaught.

Almost in slow motion he saw a man moving through the carnage towards him, cutting men down left and right, instead of a gun however, he was holding a simple black umbrella, and in the other hand a long thick silver blade. What was most disturbing about this man however, was his appearance, a black bowler hat sat atop a thin pinched face which was in turn hidden behind thick rounded spectacles and a small black moustache. The rest of him could have been mistake for an old time banker, a white shirt now splattered with the blood of his men, black waistcoat and trousers, a silver pocket watch chain hanging from pocket of the waist coat. Over all this the man (if he could be called that) wore a long tan trench coat, now almost black with blood.

Green raised his rifle and fired at the oncoming vision but it simply kept coming despite the obvious bullet wounds which it suffered in silence. Green thought for a moment it must be a robot, but the blood seeping from its wounds and the growing demon-like smile on its face proved otherwise.

Green stiffened as the creature's blade cut straight through his armour and he fell backwards as his body registered the rapid loss of blood. As blackness appeared on the edges of his vision he saw the creature lean over him and, still smiling tip its hat in a friendly manner.

The last thing he heard before the blackness claimed him was a quiet but terrifying laugh.

"Mr. Smythe, how do you do?"

 **Well there you have it, the British Cerberus, it's going to be a lot darker with them around and I anticipate a lot of fun for our main characters. Am trying to go with a few different perspectives for a good part of this story so be prepared to meet your favourite diplomats and Marine Corporals in the following chapters.**

 **Hope you enjoyed and until next time, pip-pip and tally ho!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ministry Chapter 4**

 **Sorry for the delay everyone, just have rather a bunch on my plate at present. Also finding it hard to decide where to take this story. Anyhow, here you go hope you all enjoy, and remember, reviews and comments are greatly appreciated**.

The H.M.S.S. Wellington had just arrived at Palaven, the first planet on their list for the diplomatic tour. The Marines and crew had rehearsing and drilling in full ceremonial uniform for weeks and were already (due to Palaven's radioactive atmosphere) getting into their ceremonial armour and checking their weapons.

As the ship came through the atmosphere the three Avro-Supermarine Collie Fighters were launched, immediately sliding into escort positions as Turian fighters arrived to complete the escort to Palaven's Capital City of Cipritine. Turian ground control briefly guided the Wellington to land at a military landing pad just outside the city. Due to the publicity of the Wellington's mission however, a large crowd had already gathered outside the base and the council's media outlets were eager to capture this iconic moment.

The Wellington itself had sent a shuttle on ahead containing the B.G.B.C. camera crew and reporter and Munro could clearly see them set up to capture the moment of the Wellington's doors opening.

Munro frowned at the sheer number of Turian troops around the landing pad, The Turians looked like they were gearing up for war with tanks, shuttles and heavy weapons strategically placed throughout the camp.

To the left of the ship a company of Turian troops from their elite 1st regiment were drawn up in parade formation with a number of even more elite special forces behind them.

Munro sighed, even now the Turians were trying to show humanity whose boss. He gestured to the officers who were to accompany him and they donned their helmets.

Human Ceremonial armour was not too different from frontline armour except in paintwork and extra bits added on for effect. In the case of the New Zealand Marines this mean that their armour, instead of being standard khaki, was a deep British Tank Green with red piping down the arms and legs, all troops wore specially made white leather webbing and their helmets were the same as normal, except for a WW2 era looking helmet added to the top. The armour also had the crest of the NZGEF on the right shoulder. The musicians (yes there was a small band) were dressed in similar armour except their leg armour was black and their arms and chest armour were bright Crimson, with trimming similar to the formal red jackets worn at military displays on earth. Marine officers were equipped with their standard pistols in leather holsters as well as their ceremonial swords. Officers also had Lemon Squeezer hats on top of their ceremonial helmets instead of the marines' WW2 helmets.

Despite the ceremony of the occasion, all weapons (except the offices swords) were up to date and loaded, bayonets fixed firmly in place.

The ship's crew also had a company of officers and navel ratings with their black and blue armour with their sailor caps on top of their full head helmets, white leather webbing and with the crest of the ship on their left shoulder greaves.

As the men marched out, the band playing and Commander Munro at their head, Operative Smith and Fred's squad waited patiently in the cargo bay. Once everything had quieted down and the parade had left the camp heading for the city, a Turian High-Command Shuttle arrived and landed next to the Wellington.

Smith nodded to the squad and everyone walked down the ramp to the shuttle. A tall female Turian with striking emerald green face paint and even greener eyes was there to greet them.

"Operative Smith?" was all she said, her tone betraying nothing.

"Yes" came the equally flat reply.

"I'm to escort you to a meeting with high command"

A short but very tense shuttle ride later, they arrived at what was clearly a command bunker. The shuttles viewing screens had been turned off throughout the flight preventing anyone from seeing where the shuttle was going. Fred however, was not unduly nervous. Not only did he have complete faith in Operative Smith and his squad, he also knew the Turians (Having fought them during the First Contact) would not dishonour themselves with killing them out of hand.

Fred's squad was told to wait outside the bunker as Smith went in. After an hour of waiting and trying to talk to their stony eyed Turian counterparts, Smith came storming out.

While he couldn't see her eyes through her visor Fred could tell that she was more than slightly pissed off.

She was silent the whole shuttle-ride back to the Wellington, and stormed into the cargo hold as Fred and the squad struggled to keep up.

The moment the hold was shielded from Palaven's radiation she peeled off her helmet and turned to face the squad.

"They laughed me out of the room." She hissed, "I gave them all that data about what could possibly be the end of all life as we know it and they laughed me out of the room!"

 _A certain Planet, A certain base._

"Progress report." Came the request from the bespectacled gentleman. Dr. Graham Brown flinched at the sound of it. The voice was smooth and on the surface not at all intimidating, in fact it sounded more like a request from a friend than an order from on high. But Graham wasn't fooled, he'd watched through the security footage of this man slaughtering those Marines outside the base. He'd seen the man who now stood behind him move like the angel of death through those men, blood painting his face and trench-coat almost black. He shivered at the memory.

"The bodies have almost fully matured sir," he stated, trying to keep his voice level, "We'll be waking up TTU119 in a few minutes." The man turned away, his glasses glinting beneath the brim of his black bowler hat in the low lighting of the laboratory as he moved down the row of glass tanks containing the Test Units.

He stopped outside the tank containing TTU119, The tank contained an unconscious Turian, roughly 20 years of age and barefaced, floating in the gel like substance which filled the tank. Graham typed some commands into his omni-tool and the gel began to drain from the tank. As the gel flowed away the Turian began to slowly gain consciousness.

It was over an hour before the Turian was able to talk and in all that time the strange man stayed with him, almost perfectly still. Graham had just come back from grabbing a snack (if army surplus rations could be called a snack) when the Turian opened its eyes. "Who are you?" its voice sounded gravelly through the translators. "I'm Mr. Smythe" the man replied, his voice soft but cold "What is your mission?" "I don't know what you're talking about!" the Turian slurred, "Where am I?"

Let's try again, smiled Mr. Smythe. "What is your mission, "The Reapers are defeated"" The Turian's mandibles flared ad his face seemed to relax slightly. "My mission is to ensure my family gains power and authority and when the Reapers come, to survive. Once the Reapers fall it is to ensure our people recover, but to ensure that in doing so that our people are incapable of threatening Human supremacy." And Why is that?" asked Mr. Smythe, "Because Humans need to be in control," murmured the Turian.

"Thank you." Smiled Mr. Smythe and before Graham could say a word, he had slipped his long silver dagger between the Turians chest plates. The Turian's eyes went wide and his body trembled before slumping to the floor, his royal blue blood pooling and flowing down the drain at the bottom of his tank.

Graham stood paralysed in horror at the cold murder he had just witnessed. Mr. Smythe stood up and turned towards him, wiping his dagger on a pocket handkerchief. "Well done Doctor," his smile contained genuine pleasure and it made him even more terrifying. Graham found himself backing away as Mr. Smythe advanced. "Ensure that all Turian Test Units are terminated, begin production of Turian, Asari, Volus and Salarian Field Units immediately and release when they have matured to roughly the Ten year old levels

Graham was about to respond, when a shrill buzz emanated from Smythe's coat pocket. Smythe fished out a datapad and looked at Graham. "Until next time Doctor." He turned and as the door hissed shut behind him Graham heard something that made his blood run cold, "Ah Prime Minister…"

 _The H.M.S.S. Wellington (enroute to Citadel having completed galactic good will tour)_

"Attention Attention, would Operative Smith please report to the bridge." Blared the Ship-board tannoy.

Fred and the squad were listening in depressed silence to the other Marines and off-duty crew recounting their shore leave on Thessia. Judging by the sounds of it, The Asari had been very welcoming indeed.

Escorting Operative Smith however, ensured that they didn't get a chance to enjoy the native community. Every planet they had visited, Smith had gone to meetings with local high command, and every time she had been laughed out of the room. The aliens choosing to laugh at the idea of "Reapers" rather than do anything about it.

Smith stood up from her chair and smiled thinly at the squad before heading for the lifts at the end of the mess.

A few minutes later the tannoy spoke again. "Attention, this is Munro speaking. We are not heading directly to the Citadel. Reports have arrived of a frigate missing several systems away and we have been sent to investigate."

Most of the crew groaned. Another week or so stuck on board.

 _3 weeks later_

Fred lay in his cave, His omnitool glowing softly, he sighed as he looked at the lightning storm outside. He didn't dare go out or that "Thing" would find him. His food supplies and medi-gel were all gone, it was only a matter of time now. How did a routine search turn into this shitstorm?

It had started a week ago when the Wellington had arrived at the last known location of the missing frigate. The planet below was a garden world, as yet unclaimed because of the constant electrical storms which raged across it.

The frigate was nowhere to be seen but scans of the planet showed that there seemed to be activity down on the surface. Smith, Fred and his squad were tasked with getting down to the surface and finding out what was happening.

Landing almost a day's march from the centre of the activity, the group had quickly turned the Puffin shuttle into a base. Leaving Ted and Donovan` to guard the encampment the rest of the group had started to trek through the thick forest vegetation.

When they finally did arrive and were able to set up an observation post, it was quite a sight that met their eyes. A small cave entrance on the edge of a clearing, and parked in the middle of the clearing were two strange looking shuttles. A bit of research on omnitools revealed that they belonged to the Batarian Hegemony.

After a few minutes of observation a column of aliens were seen being marched out of the cave.

Looking through his rifle scope Fred was shocked to see that they were alien children, he identified Turians, Asari and Salarian as well as some small suited aliens Smith identified as Volus. All looked to be about 10 years old and were chained together as they were led onto the shuttles by armoured Batarians.

Anger filled Fred's body but he managed to keep a clear head. "What do we do sir?" he asked Smith. The Operative thought for a moment. "We'll let them leave and tell the Wellington to intercept. Once they're gone we can clear the cave."

Soon after the shuttles left and Fred sent the message to the Wellington. There was no acknowledgement but Fred just assumed that they were maintaining radio silence.

As the group made its way into the cave Martha pointed out that the cave was obviously artificial. They made their way down into the darkness. Smith ordered that flashlights were to be turned off in case there was someone down there. As a result the group were forced to turn on their night vision lenses. They soon reached a large space with a large metal door at the end. Smith pointed to a strange black and orange symbol on the door. As they moved slowly forward Fred grew increasingly nervous, something felt very wrong about the place.

Smith reached a small panel by the door and started fiddling with hr omni-tool. In a few minutes she'd managed to get the door open.

No sooner had they crossed the threshold than they heard hurried footsteps approaching, in seconds everyone had their weapons trained on the corridor in front of them. A tall man wearing a lab coat was running towards them his face a mask of fear. "R.S.F?" he asked breathlessly. Smith nodded, her rifle pointed firmly between his eyes. "You have to get me out of here," gasped the scientist, "He's insane!" The squad looked at each other and Fred opened his mouth to say something when suddenly the door they'd just come through started to close.

"Shit!" gasped Smith, she grabbed the scientist by the collar of his coat and hurled him out the door before yelling at everyone to move. The door closed bloody quickly but thankfully everyone made it out. Though Tiki lost a bit of armour of the heel of his boot.

Fred looked around for the scientist and saw him legging it towards the cave entrance, running like a bat out of hell. Smith and Tiki were already charging after him and Martha was also starting to move. Sirens started to blare and Fred took that as his cue to grab Martha by the arm and almost drag her after him towards the outside world.

They burst out of the cave following the fleeing scientist through the eternally raging thunder storm. The air was thick and the humidity oppressive. Fred struggled to understand why he was running and why the obvious terror of the scientist had filled his veins with a mix of ice and adrenalin.

A few hundred yards from the cave entrance, hidden in the jungle, the scientist stopped gasping for breath. Smith and the rest of the squad skidded to a halt, their rifles trained on him. "Who the hell are you?" snapped Smith. The man recoiled from her but didn't run. "Dr. Graham Stadson" he gasped, "I worked in that facility for a man named Mr. Smythe!" Fred noticed the man shuddered softly as he spoke the name, what he didn't notice was Smith stiffening at the mention of it.

"What did you do in the facility?" she murmured. "I grew aliens for him!" Fred gestured to Tiki and Martha to try and form a perimeter rather than listen to someone who was obviously a crackpot.

"How do you mean you grew aliens?" asked Smith cautiously. "I was told to grow Turians, Asari, Volus and Salarians which were slightly stronger, mentally acute and attractive than the rest of their species, they were to be released at age ten." "Yes we saw" growled Smith, "And you sold them to slavers!"

"What?!" gaped Graham, "Oh God, that doesn't make any sense!"

"Why not?" snapped Smith, "Tell me what the hell you know you little bastard!"

"Alright alright!" said Graham, obviously struggling to maintain his by now non-existent composure. "Mr. Smythe had me kidnapped from my lab on Albion 6, I specialise in cloning and D.N.A. He brought me here and had me work on creating the aliens I was telling you about earlier." He looked up to see if Smith believed him. She glared at him until he continued with his story.

"When I wasn't working on them, he had other people come in and work on them as well. I never met them but they obviously gave memories or mission plans or something to them." Smith arched an eyebrow. "A few days ago the children were ready to go and I showed Mr. Smythe an example of what we had accomplished with an older Turian I'd had grown as a testbed. Mr. Smythe asked him about a mission, and said some weird stuff then killed it!"

"What did he say?" asked Smith, "He asked what the Turian's mission was, and the Turian told him it was to ensure Humans rule or something!"

Smith's skin prickled, she could see that Graham was terrified and was telling what he perceived to be telling the truth.

She turned to see if the Marines had heard, if they had they showed no signs of it, their backs turned to her as they scanned the jungle for pursuit or predators.

She turned back to Graham and almost vomited in shock. Graham's eyes staring at her as a silver blade poked out of his mouth like an obscene tongue. Behind him was the tight smile and glinting spectacles of Mr. Smythe. "Ahh Operative Smith," he spoke softly, sounding so disarming and quiet, "It's a pleasure to meet you." Smith swung to pistol up only to have Smythe drive his blade forward through her throat severing her spinal cord. Fred turned only to see a black umbrella (Umbrella?) drive straight through Martha's chest, slicing through her armour as though it were paper. Without even thinking he turned and fled, seeing from the corner of his eye as Tiki fell to a bullet between the eyes.

He ran and ran, not stopping until her reached the clearing where the shuttles had been. The shuttles were no-where in sight. Not one sign remained that any humans had ever been there.

He snarled and continued to run until finally his legs gave way. He slumped against a rock, gasping for breath his chest feeling like it was about to split open. He tried hailing the Wellington but no response. He was about to close his omni-tool when he saw he'd received an audio file. He opened it, expecting to hear Commander Munro or the evil quite voice of that thing which had just slaughtered his squad. Instead he heard Operative Smith's voice "Who the Hell are you?..." He listened in silence to Dr. Graham's revelations, the recording only stopped when Smith's heart did.

 _Four weeks later, Commander's quarters H.M.S.S. Wellington, Citadel_

"I don't understand why I had to lose my best marines" snapped Commander Munro, "With all due respect sir, we may have done well but those men were the best."

The hologram in front of him frowned. "I trust you do not feel that your actions were wrong Commander, you had your orders and Operative Smith and her team had theirs. You rescued almost 200 alien children from slavery, have proved to the galaxy that Humans are friendly and trustworthy and have accelerated the acceptance of humans into the galaxy faster than any of us could have foreseen."

"What will happen to the children sir?" Asked Munro quietly, "Due to the tremendous publicity of your rescue, they are all being adopted on their home planets, lots of politicians, and other VIPs are opening their doors to them." Came the response. "Now you must forgive me "Commodore" but I have to leave you, matters of importance and all that."

"Just one more thing sir" asked Munro, "Yes?" "Was Smith and her team really assigned another Mission while on that planet? Are they really safe?"

"You might very well think that Commodore, but I couldn't possibly comment. Congratulations on the promotion, and God's speed back home."

"Thank you sir"

"We'll talk further then"

"Yes Prime Minister."


	6. Chapter 6

Ministry chapter 5

 **Ok Chaps, here's the next bit. If you have any questions, suggestions or accusations please don't hesitate to contact me. I would like to say thank you to those who have reviewed and am still looking for someone who'd be interested in illustrating this story. If you know someone, please tell me.**

Commander Jane Shepherd was bored, bored, bored boorrreed. Here she was under house arrest in the Munro Hotel, Auckland, New Zealand, site of the Under-Admiralty for the Royal Space Force. She looked out from her apartment's window over the harbour, the sun was shining and sail boats were out on the water enjoying the weekend against the silhouette of Rangitoto island as heavy transport ships, shuttles and sky cars hummed over-head.

As she sat in her chair admiring the view, she switched the vid screen onto the BGBC, a young presenter was in Wellington at the unveiling of the H.M.S.S. Wellington memorial garden to commemorate the hundredth anniversary of Munro landing on the Citadel, in the back ground the Turian, Asari, Salarian, Volus and Quarian ambassadors could be seen, the occasion being very special to them due to the Turian, Salarian and Volus ambassadors all being descended from the children Munro had rescued. Shepherd found her thoughts turning to her crew and what they'd be doing if they were with her. Joker would probably be sitting on the Balcony watching the ships over-head and cracking those awful jokes of his. Ashely would be trying to soak up the sun, Mordin would probably be having a field-day with the shells on the beaches and Grunt would probably be applying for the All Blacks (he'd discovered the Rugby World Cup before the Collector Base and had quickly decided which team was his favourite). She smiled as her mind turned to Garrus. Garrus would probably be desperately searching for something to calibrate. She'd dropped him off on the Citadel before heading back to earth as she didn't want him to be arrested with her. The more she thought about it though, the more she regretted that decision, she missed him and after their evenings together her affection for him had become more than a little distracting.

From her crew, Shepherd's thoughts turned to the events which had brought her here. The find on Eden Prime, the fight against Saren and Benezia, Sovereign and the Collectors. The Royal Space Force had scared the Council when it used a Victoria Class Dreadnought to take down Sovereign with only the loss of a light cruiser. Afterwards the Council demanded the Ministry of Space join the Council but the Galactic Commonwealth Parliament refused instead insisting that the current method of alliance be continued. When Munro returned from the Citadel the G.C. decided they didn't want to be under the control of the Council, instead they opted for a series of treaties and exchange programs that allowed military personnel, scholars and engineers to be exchanged. The Royal Space Force made contact with the Quarians and were eager to build an alliance and soon all major species had embassies on Articus Station and Earth. The Council's demands were for the most part ignored epically when Batarians stated to attack human colonies for slaves and the Council refused to do anything. In response the RSF launched a vicious assault against the Batarian Hegemony, the end result was the Hegemony breaking up through internal rebellion and becoming a young republic. Once peace was realised the RSF withdrew ensuring that Batarian Planets were returned but that all slaves in Batarian space were freed and returned to their home planets. This resulted in yet another huge boost for humanity in the eyes of the Galactic public.

Not for the first time Shepherd appreciated the Ministry of Space for putting the H.Q. of its military arm New Zealand, back in the day when they were still launching rockets, most of them were launched from Woomera in Australia. The Ministry thought it best of have a Headquarters as far away from Whitehall as possible in the case of attack, and preferably without having to run the risk of Australian Wildlife (Spiders, Lizards, Dingo's, crocs, Australians etc.). Not only was the climate and views pretty good, but also there were plenty of good places to do some training and keep in shape.

As she looked out of her window her eyes were drawn to a small child playing with a model ship on a roof top garden on the building opposite. She smiled as she remembered her own child hood. She'd been born on Churchill Station orbiting earth, and had been raised in a military lifestyle. Her family had been close, her fondest memories were of her father and mother occasionally taking her on trips to earth when they both had leave and exploring. She'd done the normal family things like camping and beach holidays all over the world. Shepherd's mouth quirked in a smile as she remembered one time they'd been walking along a railway platform in Yorkshire in England (One of the rare special railways that only operated steam trains) when she'd seen her first alien. She had been a beautiful Asari maiden and her father had explained that maidens toured the galaxy learning about other races. Shepherd had done her best not to stare but it was hard. Soon after the piercing whistle of a steam locomotive echoed and the train came steaming along the platform, its green paintwork and brass fittings gleaming, the steam hissing and the heavy metallic clanking and clunking of its wheels causing the young Asari to nearly jump out of her skin and give a piercing squeal almost as loud as the trains whistle.

Shepherd's smile wavered however as she remembered her death, the two years which seemed to pass in the space of a week. Waking in that strange facility and the Australian voice telling her to move. Meeting Miranda and Jacob. She'd known about Cerberus, all high-ranking Space Force officers did. A Human Supremacist group, illegal, and terrorists to boot. They'd never knowingly publicly attacked anyone yet. (Though they had been responsible for Akuze and other "Experiments")

When she'd met the Illusive man she was shocked when he had revealed himself as the leader of Cerberus. He seemed far too smooth, far too much like a smug lawyer. He didn't have the character to order a thresher maw to be unleashed on a group of Marines, or for those experiments to be made on civilians. The stuff they'd done to Jack. Jack had actually mentioned seeing someone when Shepherd had talked to her about it. A man with a small moustache, glasses and a bowler hat who'd observed her a few times when she was still a prisoner of Cerberus, he'd supervised and even administered many of her tortures, but when she'd broken out, he was no-where to be found.

Shepherd closed her eyes, all these trips down memory lane were not doing her any good, if only she could just leave the hotel, go for a walk, or something!

She started at the sound of a knock on the door. She stood as James "Jimmy" Vega, her guard and only real source of conversation strode in.

 **Half an Hour Later**

Shit shit shit! Shepherd snarled as the Cannibals closed in. Anderson was struggling with the radio as Reapers plummeted onto the burning city. Firing her Vickers Lancer assault rifle into the oncoming horde Shepherd gasped as a Reaper horn sounded, almost deafening her as a Reaper landed barely 500 meters from their position. She stared as the Reaper lifted its cannon and fired at a wet-water battleship that was steaming out of Devonport Naval base, its own cannons flashing and roaring. The Reaper beam sliced the vessel in two before detonating the on-board reactors causing the ship to disappear in a roar and billowing, flaming cloud. At the same moment a destroyed and burning Reaper fell blazing into the harbour the waves from its landing smashing over their position and drenching them both in salt water.

Anderson, she could see, was shocked, "Where's the bloody Behemoth?" he shouted. Shepherd shook her head. The Behemoth was one of the three Guardian class Super-dreadnoughts, purpose built after Sovereign to destroy mass reaper attacks. At over 18 Kilometres long and up to 8 kilometres wide these vessels were huge, multi turreted reaper and planet destroying ships. Containing 8 squadrons of Septimus Fighters and a further 6 squadrons of Witch class fighter bombers as well as thousands of multipurpose military drones. Each of the eight turrets on the top and bottom of the vessels contained four long range maglev cannons which were proven to be capable of punching through Sovereign's armour. The cannons could also fire planet buster projectiles which would embed themselves in the mantle of a planet before detonating causing extreme earthquakes and volcanic activity. In Short the Behemoth (Flagship of the 1st Home System Fleet) should have wiped out the reapers. Instead here they were destroying everything in their path.

Shepherd's rifle let out a warning beep as it began to over-heat, she growled and drew her bayonet prepared to fight to the death when the Normandy whizzed in low and opened its hanger hatch, blasting the husks to powder. Shepherd and Anderson leapt for the ramp, Shepherd eternally grateful that she was returning home.

When Anderson refused to accompany her Shepherd was crushed, Vega's almost mutinous attitude didn't help either as she stormed through the companionways of the Normandy. She reached Joker in the cockpit and felt her jaw drop at the sight that met her eyes as the Normandy breached the atmosphere. The Home fleet lay scattered and shredded in orbit, and there in the middle of it all lay the Behemoth, surrounded by hundreds of dead Reapers, her once smooth proud lines buckled and blackened, her back broken and Reapers crawling over the ruined hulk like flies on a corpse.

The Normandy hid amongst the wreckage as Shepherd made hologram contact with Admiral Hacket. Shepherd could only listen as he explained that despite all of Humanities knowledge of the Reapers, the Reapers had skipped all the colonies and had come straight through in such huge numbers and had hit Earth with no warning at all, overwhelming the Behemoth and the rest of Earths defences before they could be alerted even Churchill Station was wiped out. Most colonies were still reporting in but the Home Fleet had been wiped out with all hands. London had been hit first but luckily contingency plans and civil defence was already working to evacuate large towns and cities. But no matter how fast they worked the Reapers had already slaughtered several million in the first few minutes. The European Union, China and the Union of South America were also reporting severe Reaper attacks. Hacket informed Shepherd that while the Prothean Device Aka Crucible was built, Humanity still had little to no knowledge of how to operate it. The device was protected by one of the two remaining Guardian class dreadnoughts the "Thunderchild" but the Thunderchild had lost contact a few minutes after the Reapers hit and was officially missing.

Hacket looked Shepherd straight in the eyes as he leant forward, "Commander, you have to go to the Mars Archives and see if they've found anything to tell us how to use the Crucible, you have to talk to the Council to see if they can help us, and you have to find the Thunderchild, without her and the Crucible we are all dead in the water." The older Admiral sighed, his face looking drawn and tired, "We tried to warn the council, ever since first contact we have approached them with all we knew and they laughed at us. And we all must suffer." Shepherd shook her head, the Prothean beacon, her visions, Sovereign, the collectors, even after all that the Council hadn't believed, and all this time Humanity had known what was coming, but they had pretended that it was all a hoax. "If you knew all this time." She snarled, "Why did you cut me off as a nut job when I died?" Hacket shook his head in dismay, "We had no choice," he sighed, "The orders came through from Whitehall that in order to ensure the public didn't panic, we had to assure them that your public warnings were false."

Shepherd seethed as Hacket cut the comn link. "Joker!" she called, "Yes Ma'am," came the immediate reply, "Set course for the Mars Archives." "Aye, aye Shepherd setting the course now." Shepherd's shoulders slumped as she heard the pain in his voice at watching his home world burn. The Normandy's engines hummed and the ship lurched slightly as she crept out of the wreckage and headed to Mars.

 **Somewhere else**

The thing smiled as the hologram of the Illusive Man appeared before it. "Mr. Harper," it chuckled, "I trust the mission is accomplished." The Illusive Man sat up straight in his chair, the ashtray on the arm of his chair almost overflowing with burnt ends. "Yes sir," said the man, his usually relaxed, confident voice tight and strained. "The Thunderchild is now under your command." "Good," came the response. "The Reapers have hit earth; I trust you are gathering intelligence from Mars?" "There is an agent there already and a Phalanx of troops inbound." Stated the man, his voice uncertain. "Very well, Mr. Harper. Shepherd managed to escape earth. I'm sure that if your men fail, she will succeed. I had you rebuild her for a reason." As hologram flickered off. The thing reached forward picking up a small crystal decanter full of amber liquid, it poured itself a generous helping into its glass and smiled, the small black moustache crinkling slightly. The soft lighting in the room glinted off a gold watch chain and a pair of spectacles as the thing raised its glass towards the door, a black bowler hat hanging on a hook beside it. "To Shepherd, and the future."


End file.
